MRI, CT, Results

I had an MRI of my brain, with and without contrast, on Monday, March 26th.  I was able to come to the Cancer Clinic prior to that to have my port accessed.  The MRI went fine.  I even joked with the tech: "Should I expect any bad calls about this?"  He didn't really say.  (Thanks to an amazing friend, Jenn for bringing me and keeping me company.)

The next day, Dr. Fleener called me at lunch.

The was no evidence for acute infection and no evidence for intracranial hemorrhage.  However, the MRI found two small spots of abnormal enhancement in the cerebellar vermis, at the back of my brain, around 3mm each.  Because of the size, the doctors aren't 100% sure what these spots are.  They are suspicious for early recurrent intracranial metastatic disease, but there was no swelling or other sure signs.  

Dr. F said she was going to get the opinions of Dr. Goble and Dr. Hoover, a neurosurgeon to make decide how to proceed.

The next morning, I received a call that I needed to have an appointment with Dr. Hoover.  (This is probably NOT nothing, I thought to myself......excuse the double negative, fellow teachers and grammar gurus.)

I had a scheduled CT to scan the rest of my body.  This procedure uses the *delicious* vanilla shake I just *love* so much!





I do want to add how grateful I was for the tech who took the time and truly listened to my concerns about my veins and an IV.  She searched and searched and found a winner.  Best IV experience ever!


Lunch, then another appointment.  (I forgot to mention that Dr. Fleener wanted me to remove my IUD, so I'd already done that the day before after hearing about the spots.)

I went to the appointment expecting bad news, something that would interfere with my April plans.  I was pleasantly surprised.  I liked Dr. Hoover quite a bit.  He explained that these two tiny spots, these two lesions were only discovered because this was an oncology MRI, using smaller, 1mm cuts.  The best news is that this MRI, even with the spots, is significantly better than last year.  I can attest to that, as he took me back to view them side-by-side.  Last year, my brain looked like a foggy day inside a skull.  Now, it actually looked quite normal, with a few battle scars.

Dr. hoover would not recommend any surgical options for me.  The spots are too small to biopsy.

There are two ways to proceed.  1) radiosurgery:  This involves a blast of focused radiation to those spots.  The problem lies in the unknown.  If they were to radiate these spots, and they weren't cancer, but perhaps radiation necrosis (dead cells), the spots could potentially grow, leading doctors to believe that they are cancer, and that the radio surgery was unsuccessful.  Basically, that option could lead to a false diagnosis and more damage.

2) wait, and repeat an MRI in 6-8 weeks.  This was Dr. Hoover's suggestion.  And, while we were finishing our appointment, he got a text from Dr. Goble, which said practically word-for-word what he had explained to me.



The next day, Thursday, I met with Dr. Fleener.  She went over Dr. Hoover's and Dr. Goble's recommendations, as well as some opinions of other colleagues'.   The waiting for another MRI before doing anything was unanimous.  The results from my CT came back clear.

Dr. Fleener did say that perhaps these spots were a "God thing," a reason to review my treatment.  Herceptin doesn't cross the blood-brain barrier, but estrogen does.  So, maybe we should do more to try to block that.  She gave me a sample of 2 drugs: Ibrance and Letrosole.  At some point, we will probably take away the Perjeta, since it may not be doing enough.  She would think on that and decide before my next treatment.



Overall, this news is not the best, but also not the worst.  My April plans are still on track.  I don't need to worry for 6 weeks!

H&P #36

It's the first day of spring.  Here in Texas, the bluebonnets and other wildflowers are coming out!  It's one of my favorite times of year.  As I was driving in to treatment, I gave thanks for the opportunity to see these beauties for another year, for many are not so lucky.  How my heart aches for those who are fighting and still seeking for miracles in their fights, or for their families when it becomes time that the fight be over.

I often forget that beneath the beauty of these flowers, randomly sprouting up in fields and on roadsides, as well as in well kept and cultivated gardens did not begin with the colorful petals that brighten my day.  The seed and the miracle of life came first, but so did the  difficulties in reaching for the light of the sun.



Soil, freezing temperatures, strong winds and storms, pests....these are just some obstacles each flower pushes through to bring its own beauty to the world.  And, I'll keep pushing through, too.


Had another little "episode" yesterday when the words on my mind weren't the words being spoken.  Not like the times that happen often, like calling one child the wrong name or not being able to reach for a actor's name, the one on the tip of my tongue.  This was more like not having the ability to make my mouth say what was in my brain, being able to realize it was happening, not being able to fix it, and then feeling uncertainty and concern about what it all meant.  This obstacle of cancer keeps trying to stop me from reaching for and being able to remain in the sun.

Luckily for me, I have nurses who know before I mention it that somethings not right.  I have an amazing oncologist who has the ability to bring peace to my scrambled mind, reassuring me that she is not worried, while also taking my case seriously enough to push up my scans.  In addition, she never fails me in seeking out any extras that could add more to my treatment.  This time was to think about having my IUD removed, as the small traces of Estrogen probably won't make a big deal in my case, but why risk "probably?" Luckily for me, she believes in miracles and knows that God can do things that even she can't.

In addition to my angels in scrubs and white coats, I'm even more blessed.  God is there with me, as I struggle and reach and grow through the dirt and discomfort.  Luckily for all of us, the Son we reach for is even brighter than the sun.

H&P #35, Shot #2, Appointment with Fleener

Good news today!

I had an appointment with Dr. Fleener this morning.  She gave me the result from my Muga test, and my heart is back to normal.  (just above 55, up from 50.)  This meant I was able to continue treatment!  I had my regular drugs, the 2nd of the 3 month Zoladex shots, and a Zometa infusion for my bones.  The other good news is that I had remembered to write down all my questions since the last appointment, and I got answers to all of them today!   It was a long, LONG day.  (And I bled all over my shirt after the shot in my belly.  Thank goodness for hydrogen peroxide and Tide Sticks!)

The bad news was I wasn?t able to make my traditional chemo-day lunch, as Jesse?s closed before I was finished.  There?s always next time!  The other bad news is that I keep going through these cycles of coughs/congestion.  I'll just get over it, and someone else will bring more germs into the house from who-knows-where.  At least I don't have to worry about that other monthly cycle anymore!  I was coughing and snotting a lot and enjoyed the long, Benadryl-induced nap:

It was nice to catch up with a friend, who's also five years post diagnosis.  We take one of the same drugs and are on the same 3-week schedule.  I like being able to share with people who "get it."

It?s an interesting state I?m in these days.   Grateful for remission, for sure, but still clouded by the unknown.  Will cancer come back?  Where this time and when?  How do I live, truly live, in the meantime?  I have been healed, for now, thanks to the miracles of modern medicine, prayers, hope, faith, and great blessings, but will this healing last?

What do I do now?  Two things come to mind:  1) Stand as a witness of God and of the mighty miracles that can happen by faith.  2) Have faith that God will continue to bless me AND faith that it will be okay when/if it is my time to be called home.


It is part of my gratitude for health and small victories in the battle with cancer that I express how God has blessed me and my family.  Through prayers and blessings and the Lord?s hand in all things, I am still here.  Stephen is still here supporting and loving me.  Our boys are developing with compassion and understanding in their learning, not having been stunted or damaged from the storm that has been over their lives, as well.  Finances have been stretched, but always come together.  We have been protected from injury and have healed from small and large illnesses.  Because of all these amazing blessings, I continue to try to be a light to others, especially young mothers who, unfortunately, find themselves in a similar situation to mine.  I have bad days, days I?m angry and tired and hurting and wishing it would all just go away, but I know that I am here, and as long as I can, I will stand up, speak out, and endure.


Hope in the face of great challenge can be a hard thing to grasp.  Faith in the unknown and against all odds sometimes seems aimless.  It can be easy to feel overwhelmed and lost, but I have learned to see the tender mercies in every day.  I have seen blessings from even the most simple hope and faith.  The windows of heaven continue to pour out blessings.  I have begun to understand that my God IS able to deliver me from the pain and turmoil of the fight with cancer, BUT IF NOT?.I will still press forward in faith.  (see Daniel 3: 17-18).

Thank you to all of my warriors for helping me press on. 

MUGA #2

My last MUGA wasn't my favorite.  The health care pro (I'm not sure of his title) told me he couldn't use my port to draw blood because the markers that would go back in would block the images they needed of my heart if the blood was returned through my port.  He did a terrible job at my I.V.  I don't think he believed me when I told him I was a hard stick.  (You're not that good at IVs, dude.)  When a patient tells you their husband is a CRNA and doesn't understand why people can't get IVs in me because he thinks my veins look good, AND that every nurse that tries and fails mentions how my veins roll or blow, amazed because "your veins looked fine," maybe, just MAYBE you should listen.

I wasn't looking that forward to being a pincushion again.  My aunt was in town and prayed with me over my scan.  She mentioned that I would be calm and comforted and that those performing the scan would do a good job, among other reassuring things.

On the way to the hospital, the radio turned right on to "The Wind Beneath my Wings."  This song and the movie it's from have a special place in my heart for this same aunt who prayed with me, as well as dear friends.  I instantly felt love and support and a tender mercy that God was watching over and me KNOWS ME.  After that, "Fight Song" played on the same station = another sign of love, support, and strength, that I can DO THIS!  Finally, "Thunder" came on. This is my baby's (Evan's) favorite song right now.  I took it as a reminder of all those I love who are pulling and praying for me, and that nothing is impossible.

I first had to tackle the financial fight.  Every year I have to battle to pay the right people until I meet my deductible, often having to return for refunds from groups who wouldn't bill me, even when I insisted that I'd met my deductible, even if it wasn't all showing from the insurance company.  When the hospital first called to register me, they told me I would owe $1200 for the MUGA.  Nope.  I've had two doses of two cancer drugs, each one over my total out-of-pocket of $9,000.  I had a print-out from my beautiful friends in the financial department of the cancer clinic to prove it, with a statement that they could be called to verify.  Thankfully, that was accepted, and I didn't have to pay!

Next, was wait time.  The last time I was there in December, I ended up waiting for 2 1/2 hours!  I calmly mentioned that it would be nice not to have to do that again.   A call was made, and five minutes later, I was called back.

I started my explanation about IVs and how bad my veins are.  The tech (?) responded, "We can just access your port."  "WHHHHHAAAAT?!?"  I explained what happened last time.  She laughed.  "No.  We can use it here."  How's that for making my day????

Things were smooth sailing from there!  She removed some blood, took it to put the markers in, came back awhile later, put the blood back in, and took me to have the scan.  About 20 minutes after that, it was time to go.

Thank goodness for small miracles that become huge personal blessings!

Galentines Day

Last valentine?s day, I was just trying to survive. 

Some of my lovely Pink Warriors showed up to cheer and serve. 

This year, we all just got to celebrate. It?s amazing what a year can do!!!!

H&P #34

Time is a strange thing.  I can't believe it's already been three weeks, yet, here I am, back in the chair again.  I'm still here, having passed my 6-12 months life expectancy, but I try not to take any day for granted.

So, now what?

As it often is with trials of life, those times which are hardest to endure are usually because nothing is happening or because everything is happening all at once.  Nothing major is going on in the cancer department for me, and that's a good thing, but the unknown can be difficult to navigate.

For now, I'm just journeying on, one foot in front of the other into this year.  Today was an easy day.  After the headache and stress of trying to get my first treatment for 2018, I'm grateful that this one went smoothly.  It's nice when things just all work out sometimes.  All the things don't always work out, so when they do, I'm so grateful for those small miracles.

New Year....FINALLY! (H&P#33)

So.....2018 has come in fighting.

My first treatment of the year was scheduled for January 9, but my new insurance made that impossible.  My first treatment was then scheduled for January 16, but the weather shut down the state of Texas.  Today, I finally got in.

Things have a weird way of working out, though.  As I sit in the chair, I can't help thinking that FIVE YEARS AGO, (tomorrow), I sat in another chair, hearing the words,

"You have cancer,"

the words that would change life as I knew it.


At the time, five years down the road seemed different than it is now.  Back then, I thought I would be celebrating much more, celebrating that I'd made it to the first big milestone, that cancer wouldn't be darkening my door again.

No.  Five years doesn't feel like what I thought it would.


Don't get me wrong.  I am BEYOND grateful to be here, healthy, making memories with my family and friends.  I am blessed with amazing health care professionals who truly do care.  But, somedays I feel like I was promised something I never got.

Five years ago, I was told that "this is going to be the worst year of your life, but you're strong, and you'll make it, and you'll be able to put cancer behind you."  It was the worst year of my life, and I am strong.  That part is true.  However, what I thought 'making it' and 'putting cancer behind me' would look like didn't turn out exactly as planned.  It IS five years later, I'm still here, and we are still keepin' on keepin' on.

In the spirit of thriving, I'm striving to focus on JOY this year.  I've found it challenging to be joyful when dealing with the difficulties of coordinating new health insurance for the year.  I've also had the unpleasantness of dealing with ANOTHER car accident and being verbally abused by my fellow man....a real winner of a fellow man.  I've had to practice what I preach about telling the truth and claiming responsibility for your actions, turning the other cheek, among other things.

All that not-fun stuff tends to try to get in the way of joy.  It's also not easy to push the unknowns of cancer to the side and seek joy despite the challenges.  However, I did not battle through the pains and heartache of the last five years to let the frustrations of life stamp out my joy.  I am meant to have JOY.  Maybe not all day, everyday, but EVERY DAY!  I will continue to seek joy with my people, the ones who love me and allow me to love them.  I will continue to make memories of the time I've been given.  And, I will continue to recognize even the smallest miracles that come into my life.

Joy is out there, and I deserve to have it.